Passive me, Aggressive you
by HolyLemonz
Summary: If something is taken away, it is replaced with something else. When a relative is brutally murdered, a boy is welcomed into the Berry family, forever altering the lives of Rachel, Quinn, and the students of Mckinley. Faberry.
1. Chapter 1

Passive Me, Aggressive You

Okay. um, i've been on fanfiction for a bit now, and only recently been writing stories. main reason why i have not been writing is cause i felt i wouldnt do the show justice. having said that, I have written a few crackfic's involving faberry, nothing serious or angsty. if you like slow brewing stories with romance, drama, murder and Faberry, you might like this (or not, no pressure). here's my atempt at being dramatic. hope you enjoy :)

Everything in this story is entirely fiction. All Glee characters belong to Mr. Murphy. All other characters are of my own creation.

Takes place after the purple piano project.

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><p><em>I am just a child<em>  
><em> I am nothing more<em>  
><em> There are no basic functions<em>  
><em> I am running for<em>  
><em> I could run a mile<em>  
><em> My distortion<em>  
><em> Everything is<em>  
><em> Disproportioned<em>

With a single glance, he knew her thoughts immediately.

The tears that had rolled down and dried on her face, the deep crimson blood that had poured from her puffed cheek muscle like a red waterfall. The lymph in the bruising above her eye was a dark purple plum, ripe for picking. Her olive skin and her eyes, once a deep chocolate brown, were now pale and lifeless.

He gained her thoughts from her cloudy glance as her struggle for breath seized.

* * *

><p>It's a sunny day in Lima, Ohio. Not a cloud in sight. The weatherman was very specific that it would be clear and dry all day. The man had got it wrong on several occasions, mistaking hail for rain, but it looks like he predicted right for once.<p>

There's always that cliché in movies and dramatic novels that use the essence of cold or wet weather to construct a sense of sorrow or depression. A dark day to symbolise a dark occurrence. Suffice to say, today did not reflect that cliché.

The subject: A Jewish girl in her mid twenties. Copying a style once used thirty years before, and usually worn by old woman three times her age; it was clear that she had an... Acquired fashion taste.

Her purple dress with pink polka dots was stained with congealed blood that had seeped its way through the velvety fabric. It was torn in two places, revealing her breast bruised with an ape like hand imprinted on her naked flesh.

Suffocation; A struggle for breath as well as shattered neck vertebrae, the slit indented around her neck (Possible murder weapon; A Garrotte, most likely discarded at the crime scene). The bruising around her hips, buttocks and thighs implied the murderer's intentions.

He climbed over the yellow police tape surrounding the Kingston Motor Inn Bed and Breakfast. No Vacancy.

Passing over the broken glass window on the gravel pavement, he made his way to her broken and bruised body, dodging and averting his eyes from the forensic teams flashing of the camera. Her body was lying on her back in the doorway of flat room number Seven.

Seven is supposed to be a lucky number.

His name was Seth Ambrose. The name was clearly printed onto the neatly presented name tag. It shone proudly; he made sure there were no dust or dirt marks on its plastic finish. He fogged it with his breath and polishes the cold card lightly in an attempt to make it more presentable than it already was. Underneath his name, it had the initials 'FBI' in bold blue letters. He observed from afar as the police of the LOPD gathered what they could.

"We have a murder and rape in Lima?" Pondered Detective Lewis who was crouched down, examining the body with the back of a pen "Shame, she's a real betty."

Lewis wore a simple suit and navy blue tie. He looked well pampered; Pinstripe, with his metal Police star badge revealed on his waist pocket, as well as a well worn pair of aviators hanging by the lip of his jackets front pocket.

Constable Jeffery Grady scoffed in distaste "this isn't stuff a man should ever see."

"Who is she?"

With a rustle, the constable read from a document "The girls name is Maria. Maria B...Silverman. Reported missing fifteen years ago by Ohio police."

Lewis craned his head sharply "Could it be..."

"...Detective?"

He released a shuddering breath "I... I know her family, is all."

Grady raked his hand through his silver hair, a dejected look adorning his face. "Their Daughter?"

"Niece." He replied.

"I see. You want to inform the family?"

Lewis curtly nodded, "they'll be...ha, they'll be relieved I guess...like a sense of closure..." he muttered with a glazed look adorning his eyes, and rose back to his feet, examining the crime scene.

The crew from the Westwood forensic institution in western Ohio had made the special trip. Equipped in their light blue bag costumes and white cupped face masks, they held small sealable plastic bags, looking for any evidence that linked to the murdered and the murderer. 'Talk about over kill' He thought. He mentally kicked himself for the unintended pun.

Walking around, being cautious, he stepped his leather sole shoes into a foul smelling liquid on the kitchen lino.

"Ahh, shit." He cursed.

Not quite.

Searching around the room, he spotted a clean white towel on a metal shelf trolley. Without thinking, he grabbed it and began wiping his now soiled shoes. Agent Ambrose saw all of it, and knew it was a break of protocol.

"Detective Lewis..." He said, almost scolding. Lewis certainly took it that way.

The detective looked up at him and huffed in frustration.

"It's not a god damn problem! I'm wearing latex gloves aren't I?" He said bluntly.

"Yes, but possible evidence is now drenched in urine."

He ignored the remark, dumping the towel on the stained kitchen floor. He looked back at agent Ambrose curiously when something struck him. His young blue eyes were lead at the agents rather clean cut plastic badge pinned on his front pocket.

"Agent...Agent Ambrose? You with the FBI?"

"That's correct Detective Lewis."

"Oh yeah? And what business does ole' Hoover have with this here murder case?"

Agent Ambrose sniffled at this comment. "Get your facts straight, Detective Lewis. It's been a long while since a murder occurred in Lima, Ohio. It's a...tad quiet around at the office. Plus, I'm visiting some relatives, and when the station heard I was in town, they asked for my help. He thought 'might as well'."

"And you thought 'might as well?' Well as far as I am concerned, I didn't call an 'FBI Agent'. And as far as I can tell, we don't need one. This is my case Agent Ambrose, and I would appreciate it if you would do what you originally intended and visited your relatives, and get off this here premises immediately."

Ambrose breathed calmly. His collected expression grew to understand this command. He began to walkout of the building, graciously avoiding contact with anyone or anything. He gave Maria a final glance. He turned to the detective.

"Oh, Detective Lewis," The Agent began, smiling slightly. "Be sure to check that towel...make sure it's not stained." And with that, he left the Detectives sight, walking back over the yellow police tape.

Curious, The Detective picked up the soaked towel and realised that yellow and red make an odd tint of orange. Unravelling the white towel, his heart sank in disgust.

The murder weapon.

A rusty garrotte wet with blood was hidden in its folds.

"Huh..." He smirked.

Disregarding protocol once again, Realisation creeping over his face, Detective Lewis, still holding on to the towel and the garrotte, ran out of the building in attempts to catch up with the Agent, bumping into a few of his fellow colleges, and crashing into the yellow police tape along the way.

"Hey, hey!" He called out to the retreating FBI agent, gently tugging on his shoulder. This got the agents attention, as the muscle under Lewis' hand tensed noticeably. As Agent Ambrose turned to Lewis with weary eyes, he eyed his hand with distaste.

"Uh, sorry," He laughed nervously, and pried his hand away from the agent. At this the agent visibly relaxed, acting almost relieved.

Ambrose sighed, lightly brushing away the invisible lint on the touched shoulder.

"Look, don't mind my words. Uh, you seem to know what you're doing. I think I can use your expertise." Lewis said bashfully, raising his eyebrow in apology. He gestured to the murder weapon wrapped in the stained towel.

Ambrose scoffed "It isn't your decision; I'm here now with a job to do, just like you. We have a murderer on the loose. So we both have to deal with each other."

Lewis chuckled "Oh, I can deal. Like you, it's awfully quiet in my office."

A small intake of breath from a nearby shrub catches the attention of the two men. Sharing a curious glance, they both crouch down to look through the foliage. When he spots the shaking figure, bare and dirt clad, Lewis gasps with astonishment.

"Oh, Christ."

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><p>Okay, yeah, i know nothing of proper crime scene preservation etiquette, or if the FBI does anything these days. this is just the prologue, we will see the others later.<p>

Song lyrics at beginning are from the song 'Spank' by the 'The Naked and Famous'

critcism welcome!

cheers

-Qwerty


	2. Chapter 2

Back again? hmmm, must be doing something right.

oh! forgot to mention. the title of this story and its chapters is based on the indie rock band The Naked and Famous and their album 'Passive me, Aggressive you'. if you have not heard of them, i suggest you vist this website called youtube and delve into its awesomness. its well worth it :)

Glee belongs to that guy and whatnot.

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><p><em>All the lights go down as I crawl into the spaces<em>  
><em> If I died on the screens<em>  
><em> Life tearing at the seams<em>

_ Way-yay-yay-yay-yay_  
><em> I don't ever wanna be here<em>  
><em> Like punching in a dream breathing life into the nightmare<em>

Leroy Berry was in his haven; the kitchen, leaning over the stove making his famous vegan Meatball pasta, which was a favourite dish among his family. The lack of meat product of any kind in the house was a little difficult to get used to at first, and disappointing, but he had to appease his vegan family one way or another. That's not to say he ever sneaked out at night to engorge on double cheese-double bacon and beef burgers from Wendy's, while inhaling a strawberry milkshake, without his husbands knowledge; Because he did. Suffice to say, he bought a lot of breath mint once he got married.

Creating food was almost therapeutic after a long day. Following simple rules and methods to complete a creation felt wonderful, but adding his own spice to the mix made him feel in control.

Like the way his darling daughter, Rachel, had music to calm her, if he didn't have this little space to become his own, he would be caged. You can do it so many ways. Rachel had music, his husband Hiram had crosswords, and Leroy had cooking. In any case, cooking was Leroy's means of escape, and he didn't mean to brag, but he was pretty darn good at it.

And boy, Hiram and Rachel never complained.

A little taste he brought to his puckered lips. Hmmm, could use a little bit more spice.

Rachel was sitting up on the island in the kitchen, glancing between her daddy and her motionless phone. While her daddy was off in his little wonderland, she was in hers.

She hadn't received a message all day. Besides her visit to Kurt's house to help design his Judy garland themed campaign posters for student body president that afternoon, she hadn't received any texts from the one person she had been worried about since the start of senior year. Her first visit under the bleachers didn't do the trick, and the second time that she tried, she didn't find Quinn but instead found the head Skank Mack, who decided to take up on her last offer and gave Rachel a swirly. She felt a little downhearted after that, but remained attentive in her attempts, even though her favourite sheet music was now ruined.

Her daily texts of reassurance remained unanswered, and Sunday evening was no exception.

"Put that phone away, sweetheart," Leroy smiled, turning the element off "dinners ready."

Rachel sighed, and pocketed the device into the pocket of her plaid skirt "It smells lovely." She tried to grin.

Leroy smiled sadly. Holding the pasta pan in his left and giving a kiss atop her head. "Let's set the table."

As the family dug into their evening meal, the soft ring of the house phone alerted. Leroy gave Hiram a pointed look as if to say 'I cooked, you answer it'. Hiram frowned playfully and took his attention away from his nightly crossword. He got up quickly and said with absolutely no hint of sarcasm at all "No, no, don't get up darling, I'll get it. I insist!" with that, he excused himself from the table to fetch the phone ringing in the hallway. Leroy laughed lightly when he heard his husband loudly announce "I've picked up the phone, honey!"

Rachel wasn't too hungry, and spent most of her time off in her own world, prodding a vegan meatball with disinterest. Leroy peeked at her from the top of his reading glasses.

"Not in the mood for pasta? It's as vegan as it's gonna get." He chuckled.

Rachel shrugged "Just, a misfortunate first week at school. My debut as a senior didn't meet my expectations."

Leroy lowered his fork and gave his daughter his gentle eye.

"This wouldn't be involving one Finn Hudson, would it Rachel?"

"Oh, no, not at all," Rachel quickly assured. "Finn has been...lovely, really. I just, want this year to be perfect, you know? Tie up loose ends, and well, it hasn't turned out that way thus far..." She trailed off, eyes falling to her untouched pasta.

Leroy sighed. He felt for his daughter, he really did. Where kids any different from when he was a teenager? Apparently, because understanding the emotional problems of one Rachel berry was like getting blood from a stone. It didn't make sense really. He figured if he was a teenager once then he would be able to relate to his own daughter.

A lot can happen in twenty years.

"Look, sweetheart. It's only the start of your senior year. Do you know how long a year is? The way I see it, if you get all the bad stuff out of the way in the beginning, you leave the rest of the year for the good things. You of all people know that things don't stay the same forever, and someone so driven as you wouldn't let an enigma stop you."

Rachel was pensive for a moment as she took her daddy's words into account. Life hasn't always been that kind; the years before for both she and Quinn were testimonial to that. But at the end of each year, it got better for both of them, right?

Right?

Rachel had what she sought after since sophomore year; a caring boyfriend after playing a continuous game of ping pong between them. With their loss at nationals caused by the 'kiss that missed', Finn was the only thing that Rachel saw was good from junior year.

But what about Quinn; what did she get?

A revelation no doubt; certain unknown incidents occurred at the end of their junior year that caused a transformation in her. But Rachel meant what she said; Quinn was her friend, weather she accepted her friendship or not. She was, and always will be a member of the New Directions, and no amount of pink dye was going to change that.

With that thought in mind, Rachel's lips lifted and sported a genuine grateful smile "Thanks daddy. You always know what to say."

"Course I do," Leroy grinned "Now eat up, munchkin; you're stunting your growth."

As he laughed, trying to dodge a table napkin being thrown at him, Hiram returned quietly into the room with all colour lost in his face.

"Who was that, honey?"

Hiram gripped the cordless phone in his hands a little too tightly; his jaw clenched "That was your friend Lewis, at the Lima Police station."

"Oh?" Leroy chuckled with curiosity. Lewis was his best friend in college, and was his best man at his and Hiram's wedding. "How's old Lewis doing?"

"It's..." Hiram took a shuddering breath "It's about Maria."

The name itself caused Leroy to drop his fork abruptly, its clatter against china echoed through the now silent dining room. The coiled pasta about to reach Rachel's mouth stopped halfway, leaving her mouth gaping in shock.

"T-they found her."

Leroy's body refused to move. He stayed frozen in his dining chair with his eyes staring wide at his visibly shaking husband. He couldn't stop the pull in his heart. As soon as the word left Hiram's lips Leroy felt his insides twist, coiling tighter and tighter with each passing second as he feared the worst.

"Is...is she..."

Leroy didn't need to finish the question as Hiram shook his head lightly. He let go the breath he was holding, expelling it as if it were poison. Rachel's face was unreadable, her eyes glazed over and lips parted, looking past everything as if it were invisible. And Hiram's knuckles we now white with how hard he was gripping the phone in his hand. He clearly wasn't finished.

"There's more. She had...they found her..."

"H-her what?"

Hiram shook his head in disbelief.

"They found her son."

And for the first time, in his haven, Leroy Berry didn't feel in control, and he vomited out the contents of his vegan meatball pasta into the sink.

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><p>ohhhh! my first cliffhanger! second chapter in and I'm already freaking out. Comments, bad or good are welcomed.<p>

Song is 'Punching in a dream' and is easily one of my favorites!

cheers

-Qwerty


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to everyone who favorited, alerted and have reviewed this story thus far. this chapter is for you.

If I owned Glee, Finn would be played by Shrek.

* * *

><p><em>We're only young and naive still<em>  
><em> We require certain skills<em>  
><em> The mood it changes like the wind<em>  
><em> Hard to control when it begins<em>

When Monday arrived, Rachel's fathers thought it wise to let their daughter stay home that school day. When Hiram opened Rachel's bedroom door, he found her not only wide awake, but curled into a ball on her bed, clutching a child's woollen sweater close to her chest, caressing the soft fabric. It nearly broke Hiram's heart.

"Rachel? Honey?" He questioned gingerly.

The girl made no attempt to answer, her glassy eyes staring at nothing.

"We're picking him up today. He'll stay in the guest room. And, uh, we're enrolling him into McKinley, as a sophomore. He starts tomorrow."

Rachel remained unresponsive as she played with the sweaters hem.

"Rachel, just a few days ago, he didn't have anyone, and didn't know we existed. Just like we didn't know he existed. But we are gonna make him feel welcome. Maria would have wanted it." With that, Hiram turned around to leave him daughter in peace, till her raspy voice, damaged by a night of crying stopped him.

"What's his name?"

Hiram sighed and dragged his fingers over his growing bald spot on his head. "His name is Raymond."

As Hiram closed the door behind him, Rachel let her silent tears escape from her heavy eyes. They stained the sweater underneath her as they willed her into a restless sleep.

* * *

><p><em>Rachel, even at age three, was a perfectionist at everything she did. She was winning several awards for singing and dance, her outfits never having a freckle out of place, and she almost never did a job half heartedly, always to the best of her ability and always with a smile on her face.<em>

_But when it came to hide and seek, she wasn't quite there yet. She loved hide and seek. She loved the challenge it gave her. She knew all the best hiding places in the house, and it always took her cousin Maria so long to find her. But as a seeker she could use some work. If she was only good at the hiding aspect of the game, then she couldn't keep her growing reputation of a perfectionist intact, and that would just not do._

_And today was not going to exemplify that._

_Their decision game of 'Lapone, Minnelli, Streisand' didn't work in her favour and it felt like a not-at-all-exaggerated million hours had passed as she looked for her cousin. Under her bed, in the kitchen cupboard, in the closet (she didn't like staying in there), in the washing machine; nowhere! Maria was too crafty for her own good._

_Her head lost in her toy cabinet, she failed to notice the thirteen year old creep behind her._

"_Hey Rachie!"_

_Rachel's head hit the top of the cabinet and yelped at the pain. As she pulled herself out to inspect the damage, Maria was struggling to hold her laughter._

"_Not funny!" Rachel huffed. Her annoyance was stilled when she noticed the brightly coloured package in her cousin's hands._

"_What's that?" she pointed._

_Maria's giggles subsided as she regarded the toddler shyly._

"_Look, I know it's not your birthday till next week, but, I thought since you've been the best cousin ever, I would give you yours a bit early. So long as you promise not to tell Uncle Leroy and Uncle Hiram. Okay?"_

_The young brunettes brown eyes grew wider. Rachel loved surprises. Probably more than Streisand. "Yup, I promise!" she squeaked, barley containing her excitement._

_With a grin, Maria handed the wrapped up present equipped with gold star wrapping paper and a pink ribbon to a very ecstatic Rachel. Wasting no time in admiring the presentation, she greedily pulled off the paper and felt the soft woollen fabric on her fingers. As she unfolded it, she gasped. In her hands was a hand knitted sweater, soft blue with a yellow star covered in gold glitter in the very centre._

"_I made it myself, you know."_

"_You _made _this?" Rachel asked wide-eyed with her mouth agape._

"_I sure did. So when I'm not around, you can wear it, and it can be like I'm there with you."_

_Rachel squeezed it to her chest with a face splitting grin "It's really warm."_

_Maria laughed lightly "It sure is sweetie."_

* * *

><p>Rachel awoke with a terrified gasp, clutching her chest as she swallowed much needed air. At recognising her surroundings, she let out a devastated sob.<p>

The soft blue sweater that she held desperately in her fingers was the only item in her possession that once belonged to her cousin. She felt a connection through the fabric, as if she could feel her warmth, the wool as soft as her hair, and the yellow as bright as her character.

This woollen sweater has been the constant in every moment of Rachel's life when she experienced rejection, disappointment, and heartbreak. When Finn had first kissed then rejected her. When she was writing 'get it right', she had the sweater tucked under her chin. The arrival of her biological mother, she was hiding under the stairwell hugging it to her chest. The first breakup. Outing Quinn's pregnancy.

Her beloved cousin, who she had not heard from since Rachel was very young, accompanied some of her best and earliest memories. When she went missing, she left taking a piece of Rachel with her.

Detective Kieran Lewis apparently wanted to organise a viewing of Maria in her stilled state. Witness her cousin at her most vulnerable; exposed, with nothing but a thin linen cloth protecting her. Of course, Rachel immediately declined the offer, choosing to remember her as the thirteen year old who loved Broadway and animal sweaters.

Rachel's love of music and sense of fashion had to of come from somewhere.

Allowing her eyes to survey the room, Rachel noticed the faint gold from the sun streaming through the curtain. How long had Rachel been asleep? A faint neon glow from her bed side table caught her eye. Reaching out, she inspected the gadget in her hands.

_50 missed messages, 42 missed phone calls_

Oh, _now_ her phone blows up. Only when she is missing for twenty four hours do people give a crap. Yes, she missed a day of school and had messed up her schedule that will set her back three months, but surprisingly, it didn't register the way it should have. With her grieving, education seemed like second fiddle. Well, let's inspect the damage.

_**Rachel Barbra berry, it's not like you to miss school. We both need a clean record if we want to get into NYADA. Something wrong? Oxox**_

Okay, that sounded fair. She and Kurt needed a knick free attendance record, their stunning talent withstanding, to put them a cut above the competition; Yes that Harmony White girl may have looked crystal clean on the outside, but Rachel was certain that she skipped classes to hang out under the bleachers to smoke hemp. And she kicked puppies in her spare time.

Yep. Rachel was certain. She didn't have a sixth sense for nothing.

_**Hey girl. The role 4 maria came out today and we r both auditioning. Sumthin up? X**_

Holy lemons, Rachel forgot! How could she forget something so crucial to her future? Rachel calmed herself down when she rationalised that auditions would be available all week, but she was still a little upset that she had disappointed her friend. She would make her a batch of 'I'm Sorry' Cookies to make up for it. Whoever invented that idea was a godsend.

_**Sup my hot jew. Too smart 4 skwl now you dnt show up? Is evrythin alrite?**_

Noah "Puck" Puckerman texting a somewhat caring text to one Rachel Berry? Not unheard of. Since they sorta...kinda dated, they had developed a connection that was purely friendly. And not just because they were both Jewish; Rachel truly cared for the boy, and he honestly cared for her, even if he sometimes didn't state this in public, Noah was like a brother to Rachel. And yes, even if he advertised himself as a perverted sex shark, he would always be that shy boy who wanted to sit next to her at synagogue.

_**Um rach y r u nt in skwl 2day? Did I do sumthin rong?**_

Oh, Finn. Even when he's fails miserably at spelling words correctly (even if it was quicker, she didn't think that text speak was an expectable language and refused to condone it), he was still such a sweetheart. And he could rest assured that it had nothing to do with him what so ever.

And she hoped it to stay that way. If only for his sake.

_**Not in today? I only noticed because I haven't received my daily stalk from you**_

Rachel dropped her phone abruptly when she re-read the message, realising who the author was.

That last one was from Quinn.

Double check.

That last one was sent by _thee_ Quinn Fabray.

* * *

><p>Comments welcome!<p>

Song was 'Young Blood' probably one of their most recognised singles.

cheers

-Qwerty


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4 is up. might get a little slower with updating as I'm picking up more shifts at my work. money is good :)

If I owned Glee, I'd make the writers use fanfiction and tumblr for their material.

* * *

><p><em>It's been a while since she had spoke to you<em>  
><em>And she passed some words, but then you passed a fire<em>  
><em>Memories flooding back into that part that you want to forget<em>  
><em>And you wanna kill, oh, and you wanna kill<em>

Rachel stared wide eyed at her phone in utter disbelief.

Quinn Fabray went out of her way to answer one of her texts.

What's even more astounding is that she noticed her absence, and actually cared enough to ask why. Well, not in those words exactly, but it was close enough for Rachel, and she was too excited with the progress to care. Any response from her at this stage was gold and would be treated as such.

She had to respond to this. It was only polite after all. No, she was not being hypocritical choosing to answer Quinn and not answer everyone else's. Nope, not at all.

_**Hello Quinn! What a pleasant surprise to receive a message from you!**_

Rachel quickly erased this. It really seemed a bit too enthused. Not that she wasn't, mind you, but she figured that Quinn wouldn't appreciate it. Indifference is key.

_**Oh, is that you Quinn. How are you? Not that I care or anything, just wondering.**_

Err, no. Too obvious.

_**Good evening Quinn. I didn't foresee you texting me. How is your evening treating you?**_

No, too formal.

_**Sup?**_

Oh for David's sake. This really shouldn't be hard, she has known her since middle school, how difficult is to write a response to a friend?

Maybe that was it.

As far back as she could tell, Rachel didn't really remember a time when Quinn and she were civil towards one another, and they never really shared a conversation with her that didn't involve her boyfriend somehow.

But this was a new year, and Quinn was looking and behaving differently. Maybe this was a sign for better things to come.

Which immediately got her thinking, and she had her answer.

_**How did you acquire this number Quinn?**_

Exactly how did she? She didn't remember Quinn ever accepting her offers of friendship and with that, usually meant the exchanging of phone numbers. Quinn did go out of her way to text someone like her; did she search for her phone number just to check on her? The thought alone had her mouth going dry and her heart imprinting its tattoo into her chest.

Rachel nearly had a heart attack when the device in her hands came to life. Quinn wouldn't have answered that quickly. Otherwise she would appear enthused, and an enthused Quinn Fabray? Impossible. But the idea got Rachel scrambling to answer it.

"Rachel?"

Oh...why did she hold her breath? She could help but feel a little disappointed. The one person on her mind all week had finally given her a sign of hope, granted, yes, it was very small, a flicker, but hope nether less. Rachel subconsciously reached for the little sweater on the bed but stopped herself in remembrance of who was addressing her.

Finn was being lovely, truly. He was attentive all summer, taking Rachel out on dates once a week and spending time with him at any other moment. But as the end of summer was approaching, Rachel noticed a change, like a small itch that couldn't be ignored. It was small at first, but began to increase as school drew closer. When the first day of school arrived the itch turned into a rash and Rachel finally went by instinct and questioned him about it. Finn was a little cautious, but briefly explained about his concerns concerning his future after high school. Which immediately got Rachel thinking about their combined future. Was it realistic? Would Finn willingly follow her to New York? Would Rachel allow that to happen? Rachel had always made it clear about her intentions concerning her dreams, no matter what Finn chose to do with his future. But was Finn clear about his?

"Oh! Finn, sorry, I thought you were someone else." And guiltily, she wished it had been.

"Are you alright? You didn't answer my texts. And I've been calling you all day." Rachel could sense the boy's puzzlement through the phone. His brow must be getting lines from all this confusion.

Kurt wouldn't stand for that.

"Err, sorry Finn."

"It's not like you to miss school. Is something wrong?"

Should she tell him? It's not like it would stay secret for long, if Raymond was going to be attending McKinley anyway.

"Uh, yeah," Rachel began, sighing. "It looks like the Berry residence is acquiring a new member."

"Oh really, who, is he better looking than me?" Finn laughed, but his breathing seized, as if he was considering this to be a plausible situation. This was understandable; if the last two years weren't evidence of this. Rachel shuddered.

"One, I have no idea, two, he's like fifteen, and three, eww, He's my cousin." Rachel huffed.

"Oh, that's good."

She willed herself to calm down before she replied "He's coming to school tomorrow so you can meet him then."

"Wait, that doesn't explain why you didn't turn up to school yesterday,"

"It-It's complicated, Finn. Let's just say it took a day of absence to adjust." Rachel said, hoping the boy would drop it.

It wasn't the whole truth, but it wasn't a lie either. The means of how he got here she decided to keep to herself.

For now at least.

"Okay then but you are coming in tomorrow though, right?"

"Yes Finn, I'll need to, to keep an eye on Raymond when he attends."

"Wait, his name is Raymond?"

"...Yeah, I know."

And out of all the things that has happened so far in the past week, the subject of Raymond confused her to no end. If he was just fifteen, then Maria fell pregnant soon after her disappearance. the thought made her very sick, and she felt the sting of of tears well up again.

Was his conception the reason for her absence?

"Damn. That's, uh, that might get a little confusing."

Rachel snapped back to attention to the boy on the phone.

"It really shouldn't be an issue Finn."

"Rachel...Raymond. Rachel Raymond. Raymond Rachel." He mumbled, testing the names aloud. Testing their length and sound, letting them roll around his tongue as he repeated them. Rachel was not amused.

"I wonder if you tell the difference if you repeated it like, ten times in a row really fast-"

"Perhaps another time, Finn," Rachel Quickly insisted. Her head was still heavy with grief and unshed tears and she really didn't need a headache on top of that.

"Wait one sec," he began. _How many times is he going to ask me to wait?_ "In what way is he your cousin? Aren't you adopted?"

"He's from Dads side, and no, I'm not adopted." She sighed in annoyance"Dad is my biological father, and Shelby was the surrogate."

"Which ones your Dad?"

"Hiram." After a beat of silence, Rachel rolled her eyes and followed with, "The short, Jewish one."

"Ah, well that makes sense." Finn uttered.

Just before Rachel could utter a retort, she heard the faint click of the front door opening, informing her that her fathers had just returned from the police station to pick up their new guest. Rachel felt numb.

"U-Uh, Um, Uh F-Finn," she's stuttering. Rachel NEVER stutters "I-I've got to go. I'll be at school tomorrow, so I'll see you then?"

"Oh, yeah, sure thing Rach," He replied, sounding almost dejected. "I'll let you go then. Love you."

Rachel almost missed that last part, feeling the bundle of nervous twist painfully in her stomach when she heard her fathers' faint announcements of arrival "Oh, yes, you too."

She didn't wait to hear his reply as she hit end call. Tossing the phone carelessly on the bed she brought herself to her vanity mirror and inspected her reflection. Her hair had grown longer since this time last year, flowing mid back, past her shoulder blades. And it seemed to have gotten significantly thicker and darker resembling the colour of her eyes; a dark chocolate. Her skin was a little tanner too, even though she spent most of her summer indoors at the theatre (having said that, the theatre lights were known to give cancerous burns if proper sun screen wasn't applied). She sometimes wondered what it would be like to have wavy, blonde hair, fair skin and hazel eyes.

Maybe then people wouldn't think she's so repulsive.

Giving the sweater a final squeeze, she made her way slowly downstairs.

"Daddy?" she asked warily, her eyes and ears honing in on anything irregular. She noticed the tall and bony figure hidden behind her father, his back turned as he observed the Berry household with curiosity. Rachel felt her throat constrict.

"Hey sweetheart," Hiram smiled sadly, "Did you sleep alright?"

"I slept fine." She mumbled, all of her focus on the boy.

Hiram saw right through the weak lie, and frowned in sympathy. He gestured lightly to the boy behind Leroy. "We have a guest. Rachel, this is Raymond."

The boy in question turned around and locked gazes with the brunette.

His eyes were an olive brown.

And at that moment, she realised the reason for their names similarity.

Maria named her son after her.

And she felt her insides twist once more.

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><p>Reviews are always nice :)<p>

Song is 'Serenade'

cheers

-Qwerty


	5. Chapter 5

okay, you might notice that there is a few changes with chapter structure. not really necessary to reread the other chapters, just added a few song lyrics to the beginning of each chapter so it all fits. sorry if i confuzzled you :)

also sorry for being a little late with updating. family issues ain't fun. hope this little bit longer chapter pleases you all :D

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><p><em>Baby its the same late morning<br>the same no show  
>Its the same fucking habits<br>I guess we dont know_

"Kieran!" Dennis Grady exclaimed once the clock buzzed for their evening break. The man in question had his head buried in paperwork and photos from earlier today and made no move of acknowledgment to his fellow co worker.

"Kieran, get your head out of the newsprint and let's get a kebab. You look like you need it, my treat."

Lewis didn't have an eating disorder, despite what his work mates thought. He just didn't eat in public. Or that much when he was alone in his apartment. Most nights a plate of instant curry rice and a cup of coffee sufficed when he really had no desire to reach out for the recipe book.

And that was pretty much every night.

When no answer came, Grady prompted with: "C'mon, Kieran. It'll do you good."

At that, Lewis raised his head and gave a disbelieving look to the older man "You sure Dennis? Aren't you afraid that your friends will think that something is going on? Aren't afraid I'll try and cop a feel?" he sneered.

Oh yes, Lewis knew what his other co workers thought of him. He wasn't deaf when he heard the whispers. He wasn't blind when he noticed the long, disgusted yet curious gazes. And he most certainly wasn't illiterate when he received anonymous threat letters on one or more occasion. One of the interns actually had the nerve to send him some gay pornography with a message 'this should be right up your alley'.

Lewis had the right mind to tell him to shove it up his alley.

The man's expression didn't budge. It was still as caring as ever "You're the small town detective, Kieran. Everyone knows everyone, and you of all people shouldn't care what everyone thinks."

"I don't," he quickly retorted "I care what people will think of you. Don't want them to think less of you. Don't want them to think I've converted you to my evil ways."

"You're my workmate Kieran. Not only that, but you are my friend. And I care about you." He smiled sympathetically.

The detective's demeanour changed slightly at this comment, but he recovered quickly and buried his head back into the paperwork.

"Go on without me, I'm not hungry." He mumbled.

As responses go, these were common for Lewis, and Grady sighed letting the man be. "Fine then. Don't stay up too late, you hear?"

Lewis waved him off, not really noticing the older man's departure. Nor did he notice the approach of Agent Seth Ambrose, who seemed to have been observing the conversation from afar.

Taking a small sip of the extra strong black coffee by his desk, he looked at the old papers of the missing report filed fifteen years ago. Old photos of a youthful Maria stared back at him. Untouched. Untainted.

He only ever met Maria once. He had a brief conversation with the six year old daughter of Hiram's sister Joanne at his best friend's wedding. It almost baffled him as to why such a memory was so clear to him.

Maybe it was because the girl had that effect on people.

_Kieran Lewis had lit up a cigarette outside the chapel...Was it really a chapel? Lewis wasn't too sure. As far as he knew, Hiram was Jewish; didn't Jews get married in a temple or something? But Leroy was a Catholic, so maybe the couple compromised. _

"_Hello Mister Lewis."_

_As he inhaled, he turned his attention to the feminine voice of a petite olive skinned girl._

"_Afternoon, Miss Silverman." He greeted with a bow, much to the pleasure of the girl._

_Maria Silverman. She was dressed as the flower girl at the reception and was quite the entertainer, belting out several songs from 'West Side Story' to the enjoyment of the guests. Which Lewis felt was a little odd, seeing as the movie was filled with what are very much adult themes last he heard, and there was a murder. He wouldn't have thought a six year old girl would be allowed to watch something so graphic. But he digressed._

"_Don't know if you want to be out here with me, hun," he smiled, trying to be considerate with his puffing "Smoking ain't too good for a singer like you."_

"_Mommy and Daddy smoke in front of me all the time," She nodded, her chocolate eyes twinkling in amusement. "Barbra Streisand smokes in her movies, so I don't really mind!"_

_Oh really? Hmmm, Joanne and Stephen definitely needed a talking too._

_Lewis stilled a little as he realised that this was one of those events that can change a habit of a child forever. The next thing Lewis says could result in the girl having clean, functioning lungs or suffer from a Laryngectomy! Role model or not, Lewis couldn't have this._

_And if he had too lie to do it, then so be it. _

"_Yes, but uhhh, she's an actress. She's not really smoking."_

_Lewis knew for a fact that in movies those days, and a few nowadays, when someone was smoking for dramatic effect, they actually were doing so. And most actors got hooked unintentionally. Let's hope if, not rephrase that, WHEN Maria is famous on the Broadway stage, she doesn't suffer from the same fate._

"_She's NOT?" Maria gasped. As if films had been deceiving her this whole time._

"_Of course not!" He laughed with a grin "If she smoked, her voice would be damaged. Then she couldn't belt out any of her great numbers now, could she?"_

_Maris looked like she was thinking really hard, as if what the young police intern had just explained to her was almost unfathomable._

_Not only was Lewis asked to be Leroy's best man, he was also requested to be the eyes and ears at the proceedings. He only just finished his police training at LOU and set up work at the local police department as an intern. Not doing anything terribly exciting, just sorting out unpaid parking tickets and missing pet reports. So it wasn't like he had absolute authority. But his best friend trusted him to do this, and a pair of interracial, interfaith homosexuals exchanging their vows in Lima Ohio, there was bound to be some backlash._

_So he didn't hold his breath when he saw the very devout Russell Fabray and his clan of conservative extremists make their way onto the green field outside the St John chapel, wielding what looked like picket boards with crude and offensive slurs. But to him they might as well of been pitch forks and torches._

_How fucking rich was this? It wasn't enough that being the only out couple in Lima, Hiram and Leroy were subject to homophobic harassment on a day to day basis. But to have their day of matrimony threatened by this bigoted bastard? That was the final straw that broke the camel's back._

_With a scowl, Lewis threw his cigarette butt on the ground "Sweetheart, go back inside. I need to have a chat with these people." 'Chat' could be translated as anything but. Lewis lifted himself off the chapel wall, ushering Maria into the large doors and walked his way over to the approaching mob. _

"_Fabray! I'm pretty certain you weren't sent a wedding invitation, so you and you're friends have no reason to be here." Lewis felt no need to be polite and went straight for the throat._

"_That's where you're wrong, faggot lover," Russell spat, walking right up into Lewis' personal space, eyes ablaze "This is a holy sanctum, and my friends here were wandering round the neighbourhood looking for a place of worship."_

_Horse shit. _

"_In need of a quick clean up, huh Fabray?" Lewis retorted "The things that you do must need a daily kneel down to pray the sin away, huh?"_

_No one is perfect. And Russell Fabray is flawed beyond repair. And no amount of confession visits would give him a clean slate._

_An evil smirk grew on Russell's face "Least I'm not kneeling down to choke on someone's third leg."_

_Lewis' anger was peaking with each passing second. He had every mind to wipe that smirk off that bigot's face and-_

"_What's a third leg?" an innocent voice asked._

_Lewis' Stomach sank as he sharply turned to see a wide eyed Maris viewing the conversation._

_Shit, shit, shit!_

_Curse children and their insistent curiosity._

"_Honey, what are you doing? I told you to stay inside." Lewis reminded, gently guiding her away from the group. The less time she spends with Russell Fabray, the better. Hell, not at all would be a much wiser decision._

"_Little girl. A third leg is what the sinners in there like to suck." Russell smirked as he spoke patronizingly to the girl. Lewis went ballistic._

"_HEY! YOU BETTER KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT IF YOU KNOW WHATS GOOD FOR YOU!" He hissed, more than ready to lash out. Russell blanched a little at the raised fist, but something was holding him back._

_No, something literally was holding him back. Lewis took a small glimpse at the one trying to order peace and found the dark eyes of a newly wedded Leroy Berry taking charge. He let go of the arms of Lewis as he felt his breathing even out._

"_Okay, okay, enough of that," Leroy chastised, but his eyes were locked with the Fabray "I suggest you and your friends Russell pray somewhere else. I ain't buying your innocent act."_

_Russell was about to retort, but faltered when he saw the building crowd of wedding guests behind Leroy, including a recently wedded irate Hiram Berry._

"_Your whole spawn of evil deserve to burn in hell." He sneered. But seemed to have gathered the message, and was about to leave when he heard the voice of the young girl._

"_I can't go to hell. There's a lot of smoke there. It will damage my singing voice, right Mister Lewis?"_

_Lewis was shocked like the rest of them, but was the first to smile._

_Bless her heart._

_. . . . . . ._

"_Lewis?"_

_. . . . . . ._

"Lewis!"

"Huh?"

Breaking out of the reverie, he heard the voice of Agent Seth Ambrose ring through his ears. The salt and pepper haired Agent looked at the detective with a growing curiosity.

"Oh, uhh," Lewis loosened his tie "Sorry, I was miles away... Seth right?"

"Ambrose." He quickly answered. So, not on a first name basis are we? Now that's very interesting.

Lewis smirked behind his cup of coffee. "So..."

"So what?"

"So spill," He chuckled, "What do you have for me, _Ambrose_?"

The agent nervously cleared his throat before dropping a small stack onto the detective's desk, consisting of photo's and what looked like an old video cassette tape. Did people use those anymore?

With a raised brow, Lewis flicked his way through the black and white still pictures.

"What do I have here, Ambrose?" he gestured.

"That there is a week's worth of Surveillance footage outside the motor inn." He grinned, folding his arms across his chest with pride.

Got to hand credit where it's due, the new kid on the block sure knew how to handle things.

"Nice." He simply answered. There. A good praise as any.

The agent smiled.

A beat went by before the detective began talking again

"Do you think the kid was a smoker?"

Ambrose did a double take at the out of the blue question. But he tried his best to answer it.

"What, you mean Raymond? Probably; never know with teenagers these days-

"No, no, no, I mean Maria; do you think she ever smoked?"

Ambrose ponderd for a brief moment, then shrugged "Her teeth looked like they were in good condition, and her gums would of been healthy when she was alive, so I have no doubt that she was a non smoker. Why do ask?"

Lewis relaxed a little, letting an almost relieved smile adorn his face.

"No reason."

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><p>Did you know? That Faberry was invented by RIB as a trolling mechanism? It's true. RIB knows that Faberry exists, and as soon as the couple show progression, they cut us off with more pointless Finchel crap, and they're all like "You mad?" and we are all like "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!" So when I eventually own glee, I'm firing some asses.<p>

Song is 'All of this'

reviews are always nice. even small ones :)

cheers

-Qwerty


	6. Chapter 6

I am so sorry to those who have been waiting for an update. in the words of john lennon "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."

its funny how life gets in the way of, well, your life.

hope this update doesnt disappoint!

Glee belongs to that guy who, y'know, made it and stuff.

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><p><em>When the daylight comes<em>  
><em> Do you feel it?<em>  
><em> Leave your bag of bones<em>  
><em> Underneath your bed<em>  
><em> Everything is as<em>  
><em> It should be<em>  
><em> I'm leaving now<em>  
><em> As I should be<em>

Dinner was quieter than it had ever been. Rachel, usually the life of dinner conversation had not uttered a word besides sending her thanks for the evening dinner presented. Leroy was not in the space of mind to attempt to cook anything for the evening, so the family ordered Thai takeout. Rachel was not hungry, despite having not eaten since yesterday. Her nerves felt like they were scratching at her stomach, making the idea of consuming anything an unpleasant one.

Raymond had a similar tact in mind; his cloudy gaze locked with the spring rolls and rice on his plate, hands immobile on his lap. His cheek bones protruding and his lean muscle suggested he needed the nourishment. His expression was unreadable, not giving anything away. He would often let his curiosity wonder and he gave a glimpse to his surroundings. Rachel couldn't help but observe. She never really thought that the patterned wallpaper was that interesting, but there you go.

His crossword puzzle book pushed aside, Hiram felt the tension around him a thick haze, and ten minutes into dinner, felt the need to intervene. A quiet house was not a Berry house.

"Soooo, uh, Raymond," He prompted, slowly but surely gaining the boy's attention "You are starting School at McKinley. Are you excited?" He smiled encouragingly.

Raymond had, to what Rachel understood, been homeschooled all his life. Because of him frequently moving residences, he never settled into a school, which also meant he was lacking in the friend department.

At least he had an excuse; what did Rachel have?

The boy in question responded to Hiram's question with a light shrug of his shoulders.

Despite this, however, Hiram continued "You don't need to worry too much. Rachel will take extra care of you if you are nervous."

If it were up to Leroy, The fifteen year old wouldn't be attending at all. Not right away anyway. Leroy had argued his case that Raymond should at least stay home a bit longer before jumping into something so unfamiliar. But Hiram had countered with the fact that the boy needs a sense of structure and schedule to help him cope.

"Absolutely, Raymond," Leroy encouraged "You can rest assured that Rachel will try her best to watch over you, right sweetheart?"

"Oh! Um, yes, of course." Rachel smiled faintly.

In all honesty, the boy made Rachel nervous. For what reason, Rachel was not sure. Maybe it was the reason why he exists in the first place. It wasn't his fault, Rachel knew. But there was a small slither of guilt in the deep corner of her mind that she couldn't lose hold of.

"...Can I finish my food in my room please?" The boy quietly asked with an almost pleading gaze.

Leroy and Hiram exchanged a concerned glance, before answering him.

"No, no that's fine, Raymond," Hiram smiled "It's been a long day for you, I'm sure. Rachel, could you show him to his room? I'm sure he would appreciate it."

Rachel bit her lip nervously, but nodded in agreement. "Okay daddy."

The young brunette rose from her seat, bringing her hardly touched meal to the kitchen bench. Raymond followed her up the stairwell before stopping halfway to saying good evening.

"Thank you, Leroy. Hiram." The boy bowed his head in respect of the two men.

"It's quite alright." Leroy replied, but gasped a little when he felt a sharp kick at his shin. The man next to him gave him a raised brow, trying to subtly hint to his husband.

"Uhhh, Raymond," Leroy began, looking to Hiram for support "We- uhh, we thought that, maybe...perhaps, uhh-

"Are you absolutely sure you want to go to school tomorrow?" Hiram finished his husband's broken question with a frown "I mean we would completely understand if you would want to stay here. We will take a few days off work to keep you company."

"No," Raymond quickly assured "It'll be good, really."

Though the men were a little reluctant, they gave in and agreed "Alright then," Leroy nodded "see you in the morning."

With a thin smile, Raymond continued up the stairwell, without another word. Rachel said her goodbyes to her fathers, and retired to her bedroom for the night. When the coast was clear of any of the youths, the men engaged in panicked conversation.

"This is crazy, Leroy." Hiram hissed.

"The kid has just lost her mother, and has just been taken in by us, a family he didn't even know he had. We can't imagine what is going on in his head right now," Leroy whispered loudly "and if he believes going to school will help him get through, then who are we to deny him?"

"He doesn't know how to deal with it, that's why he's running."

"Give him time, Hiram. We can't expect this to blow over."

Hiram broke his augmentative gaze, and sighed, defeated. He subconsciously pulled off his specs and began polishing the glass with the tip of his tie.

"What do you think Joanne would react if we told her we found her daughter, and told her that she was a grandmother?" he pondered.

Leroy stared out through the window and began smiling sadly at nothing in particular "she can be at peace knowing that she doesn't have to blame herself anymore."

Hiram rose from his seat and stood next to his seated husband in thought.

"What are we going to do about Maria?"

"I'm going to see Lewis as soon as I can," Leroy announced, rising from his seat to put the dishes away in the sink "I need to organise a funeral."

Hiram blanched at this, his eyes widening "You know Lewis wouldn't allow that. It's only been a few days, and by law he can keep the body if it still has any physical evidence-"

"I don't care," Leroy quickly injected, his words growing in upset "and I am well within my right to take her for her funeral, I will pay him if I have too."

With a slow shake of his head, Hiram didn't counter back. He knew on a night like this, that a proper discussion would be made with a reasonably talked out conclusion. With a clear head comes clear decisions, and his brain as well as Leroy's were in such a mess from every that had transpired, there was no way that the two could talk this out properly. He decided it could wait another day.

Hiram held gently his husband's trembling hand "Leroy, I know you're hurting, but be aware that we are all hurting, Raymond even more so. We need to be as supportive as possible."

It seemed to work, because Leroy had squeezed back, smiling faintly. "I know..."

With that final word, the Berry men spent the rest of their evening preserving the leftovers of their meal for another day. However quiet they tried to be, they weren't silent enough for the figure to have heard their hushed words from the top of the stairwell.

* * *

><p>The thing that surprised Rachel that morning was that her routine had not changed. She still awoke at 6:30 am and spent fifteen minutes on the epileptical as usual. She still used five minutes to wash the sweat off in a shower. Coming out rosy and fresh, it was when she reached her wardrobe that she halted.<p>

Clothing has always been a useful form of expression for Rachel. Most of what she wore was not well received, if the stains of cherry slushy weren't testimonial to that. She never did tell anyone her real reason on wearing every single knitted sweater known to mankind. The soft, light fabric, often accompanied with bright colours and gorgeous and unique patterns always sparked a memory in Rachel.

And somehow, she always felt warmer when she wore them.

But ever since hearing the shocking, devastating news from her father, the clothes held a different feeling.

That feeling, of the demons that had made residence yesterday in the pit of her stomach, began clawing away at their fleshy prison without abandon.

The idea of wearing anything remotely that reminded her of her beautiful cousin. It was too painful to bear.

With that thought in mind, Rachel, fresh from her shower opened the double doors of her walk-in wardrobe that Tuesday morning, and was floored with the large variety of colours of her woollen sweaters, argyle, flats, and all that was pure Rachel berry.

Walking to the far back of the wardrobe, she pulled back Owlie; one of her favourite animal prints, and found her collection of what she liked to call 'anti-berry clothing': clothing that in no way represented the diva that people have come to recognise through the years. This collection consisted of white Tee's, several pairs of jeans, and dull and cold coloured sneakers that will help her blend into the crowd.

Rachel had humoured the idea of having these items so she could say that yes, she indeed had what people around her considered 'normal' apparel. 'Normal', for Rachel, always translated as boring. She had always been taught 'if you have something to say, say it loud'.

If Owlie didn't scream at you, she wasn't sure what would.

Funnily enough, as she could recall, that Brett kid had claimed that to actually be the case, and had nearly driven Rachel out of school as he had a screaming competition with the sweater.

Why substance abuse was not policed at school, Rachel didn't have a clue.

No, Rachel had gathered these items during sophomore year, in the event that Principal Figgins would find a reason, just like her fellow glee member Tina Cohen-Chang, to ban her usual array of outfits because they we're representing the occult or something equally stupid.

Granted, that scenario never occurred for her, not yet anyway. Never one to throw things away, Rachel kept the collection, and hid them behind her signature clothing to never see the light of day.

Till now.

No cheerful colours or plaid in sight.

Was this drastic? It probably was. But if Rachel wanted to cope with loss, it seemed only appropriate to look the part.

After making her selection (a grey T-shirt, loose jeans, a pair of black leather 8 up Doc Martens, and a dark grey zip up hoodie), she gave one last look at Owlie. The beaded eyes seemed to stare into her. Seeing past the new barrier she was crafting.

With a sigh, she pulled down the sweater from its hanger and threw it without care into her washing hamper. Noticing another sweater was revealed, this one a picture of a tug boat, she pulled that one down too.

With one gone came another, then another, and soon as if burst with a new found frustrated energy, Rachel proceeded to pull each and every garment as if they offended her. Ripping them, tearing them from their finely placed hangers, caring not if she heard a seam unthread; It wasn't long before she was blinded by frustrated rage and a shroud of hot tears. The last item of clothing she latched on to was Maria's sweater.

And that's when her sudden anger seized.

Rachel was staring at the small garment as if her eyes alone could set it aflame. A shuddered breath of defeat passed her lips, letting go of the sweater in her tight grip and she collapsed into the mountain of clothing on her floor. She suddenly felt powerless, and could not stop the tears cascading down, or her wails of grief being muffled by the material beneath her.

She probably wouldn't have heard her father's voice of concern had he not knocked on her door as well.

"Sweetheart?" Hiram's concerned voice muffled through the door. "You okay in there?"

Calming herself down, the brunette wiped her damp eyes with the heels of her hands before responding "Y-Yes, I'm fine," she looked at the colourful and fluffy mess pooled around her "Just having a clothing crisis." She nearly laughed; well it was true, but not for the reasons that most girls her age had.

"Alright then," Hiram replied with a light chuckle "Listen, we may need to get there a bit earlier; we need to organise Raymond's enrolment form."

"Okay, I'll be down in a minute."

After a few minutes of putting on the alien material, Rachel Inspecting herself in the mirror; she felt cold already.

Mission accomplished.

* * *

><p>Am i the only one who is upset over the idea that Quinn is going to get a new love of her life? I mean, if a faberry romance doesn't occur *cry* then i want our loverly Quinnie to go about her life by herself. she doesnt need a man to keep her down! QUINNDEPENDANCE!<p>

Okay, rant over.

reviews appreicated!


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